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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25486189">from out of the cold</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/OverlordYue/pseuds/OverlordYue'>OverlordYue</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Far Cry (Video Games), Far Cry 5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, dub-con because of captor-captive relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 08:07:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>926</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25486189</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/OverlordYue/pseuds/OverlordYue</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s cold up in the mountains.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Staci Pratt/Jacob Seed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>53</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>from out of the cold</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jacob never touches him, not in the way Pratt knows he wants to. He knows because he’s seen it in Jacob’s eyes, tasted it in his slaps, and if he’d shifted enough while Jacob had him pinned to the ground, blood and shit in his nose, he would have felt it, hot against his back.</p>
<p>But Jacob never acts on it, in fact, he keeps a tight leash on all his soldiers when it came to that, and so it is during the nights that Pratt feels the safest, with only the cold fucking him.</p>
<p>It’s freezing, and the cold likes to curl its fingers into his body, likes to make his muscles ache, his throat raw with air that frosts around his red lips, his cheeks flushing.</p>
<p>“Cold?” Jacob asks him one morning as Pratt lies on the frozen ground of his cage, under his one blanket, too tired to shake but too cold to lie still and so his body jolts, twitching, trying to warm up the world around him.</p>
<p>“Yes,” Pratt tries to say, but his chattering teeth bite his tongue and the warm blood that pools in his mouth is almost welcome.</p>
<p>“Sit up.”</p>
<p>There is a click as the door unlocks and Pratt pushes himself up to sitting, teetering to the left before he equalizes, swallowing the blood into his empty stomach.</p>
<p>Jacob does touch him then, a hand in his hair, pulling his head back, and warmth spikes from his fingers down Pratt’s scalp, sending tingles down the back of his neck.</p>
<p>“Not lookin’ too good, Peaches,” Jacob tells him, and Pratt smiles, blood tinting his teeth red, and the blood to his head must be frozen in his arteries, because he takes Jacob’s closeness as a chance to smash his forehead into the Herald’s face.</p>
<p>The warmth of Jacob’s blood on his skin is glorious, a hot burst, too brief, too little, and then Pratt’s face is back on the ground, grinning mouth being ground into the frozen dirt, and there is a part of him that wishes Jacob would just fuck him, would take away the cold in his bones, but Jacob leaves him there, nursing a sore nose, and Pratt is surprised to wake at all the next morning, his lips blue, his shivering stopped.</p>
<p>“Hypothermia,” the nurse tells Jacob while Pratt is wrapped up in blankets from head to toe and put under and on top of a stack of electric blankets.</p>
<p>“Body heat would be more effective,” the nurse continues, but Jacob says nothing, and Pratt can’t see him, doesn’t have the strength to open his eyes, surprised he even has the strength to keep breathing.</p>
<p>There is the sound of movement, an added pressure to the top of his blankets, then a voice at his ear.</p>
<p>“Gonna let a little cold stop you?” Jacob asks him, quiet, so close that Pratt feels like he is there, in his head, the words hazy and meaningless.</p>
<p>The pressure on his blankets shifts, then a warm hand is brushing into his cocoon and wrapping around the back of his neck. The touch burns, and Pratt makes a quiet, thoughtless noise, then the hand is gone, and Pratt slips back into darkness.</p>
<p>Pratt spends the next twelve hours in his cocoon, then follows it up with three days in the hospital as a fever rips through his body so violently that he has the blurry, burning memory of asking (begging) Jacob to kill him, to end it, please, fuck, only to be told that Jacob isn’t there, even though Pratt can feel Jacob’s hand searing the back of his neck, can see blue eyes in the blazing world around him.</p>
<p>When the fever breaks on the fourth day, and Pratt is still alive and staring up at the ceiling, he isn’t the same as he had been, freezing out in his cage, and when Jacob comes, the shadow of a bruise still haunting his nose, Pratt pulls him down onto the bed and rolls on top of him.</p>
<p>Jacob’s hands are a vice on his hips, but his mouth is slack, and all he can say is Pratt’s name before Pratt takes his mouth, biting, licking, and he digs his nails into Jacob’s arms until the skin split and Jacob groans under him.</p>
<p>“You should have killed me,” Pratt presses their foreheads together, his fingers tugging at Jacob’s belt, “You should have killed me you stupid motherfucker.”</p>
<p>He bites down hard on the hand that tries to touch his face—Jacob will need stitches—and he spends the next hour rocking in Jacob’s lap, jeans grinding against chaffing, oversensitive skin, Jacob shuddering under him, coming twice with Pratt’s name on his lips as Pratt digs into every part of him with tooth and nail until there are more fresh wounds than old and Pratt drops down onto his back and allows Jacob to take him in his mouth.</p>
<p>It is good, it is warm, and Pratt is silent as he comes, mouth open, heat jolting through his body.</p>
<p>“Pratt,” Jacob murmurs as he crawls up his body, dotting kisses on his stomach, his chest, his throat, and Pratt lets him, eyelids heavy, already drooping before Jacob reaches his cheeks, warm, too large lips brushing over his skin.</p>
<p>“Stupid,” he mumbles, before he let his eyes close, body aching, and he feels Jacob settle, half on top of him, his hand brushing down Pratt’s chest, letting out a small grunt that sounds almost like agreement before Pratt is asleep.</p>
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